On A Hiding To Nothing
by Dragon Rider of Alagaesia
Summary: Sequel to Coma- Who can survive when a certain assassin is out for retribution? Blood runs thicker than water for the Rider family and Alex may not be prepared to know the consequences of the past. Meanwhile, MI6 is in danger of sabotage and demise.
1. Prologue

Part Two: On A Hiding to Nothing

Prologue

_Eleven fifty nine. A figure stepped out of the promising fog; searching. His stance strangely relaxed and accepting all actions. Somewhere close a clock tower chimed midnight, but it fell deaf on his ears. A hand lay resting; fingering the gun he knew so well. It didn't bother him. He never lost sleep. _

_He waited._

"_I know you are here," Yassen stated calmly, his eyes frozen. He smiled when his expected company emerged cautiously from behind one of the beams. The other man didn't bother with stealth. He walked up casually, positioning himself thirty feet across, directly facing Yassen, with his head slightly down. He did not want to look into Yassen's eyes._

_The assassin had his firearm out and prepared his standpoint within a flash second. No reaction. He blinked when John raised his hands in surrender, waiting for the bullet exclusive of words or resistance. It could be a trap. But why would John want to die with his son alive?_

_His aim was perfect. He couldn't miss. _

"_It won't be that easy, John. With you dead I could kill Alex easily. ," He started, his words breaking total silence and waiting for reaction, "Or. Maybe I will lie to him. Like you lied to me…"_

_His former mentor did not move a muscle. That unsettled him. He could handle an argument. He wanted to fight. But not this…one sided confrontation... He did not fear the silence that followed after the shot. Now, the silence had already started. John already felt dead to him, standing willingly without complaint at Yassen's objective._

_He stepped forward thrusting his gun sideways. His lust for blood was yearning for the struggle and pain he had expected. Grinning, he noticed John step backwards as he started walking briskly towards him. "Why don't you face me, you coward?!" He spat out, reaching for John's arm and pulling his chin up with a free hand to look at him eye to eye. The other man struggled, feeling his neck being crushed with the cold hand until he felt Yassen's gun slip from its master and fall to the ground. The grip immediately loosened and Yassen bolted back from his victim in a mixture of fascinated horror._

_Ian Rider stared back with unnervingly calm confidence._

"_What do you intend to do Yassen?" The other man questioned, sounding perfectly in sync with the tone of his mentor._

_The clock tower rang once._

_Yassen hesitated. "I could kill you," he suggested. _

"_You already have." Ian said, blue eyes glistening._

_Twice._

"_Well?"_

_The third chime did not come. A moment later, the bridge was engulfed in flames and Yassen was falling._

He bolted upright to unwelcoming sweaty sheets, groping for solid ground. He was not falling.

This was yet another reason as to why Yassen did not sleep often. He had nightmares. It was not unusual for them to be reoccurring. The first time he had this particular dream; John had been waiting at the end of the bridge for him.

He had not expected Ian. Especially feeling so…alive. And with John's voice. Or perhaps that was Ian Rider's voice after all. The man had been quite silent when Yassen ended his life, as if he had expected it.

Shivering, Yassen ran a hand through his hair. The spirit of the vision always left him breathless and unfulfilled. He wanted to finish off the taunting demon at the end of the bridge and end the face that stared him down in bursting caveat.

Smiling, he lay down again. John Rider did not deserve his title. He was a fraud and nothing more.

_I will hunt the hunter._

A/N- I'm back :D

Fyi: For those that are not familiar: the phrase, 'On A Hiding To Nothing' is a phrase which means,' To be faced with a situation in which is impossible to escape and/or resolve as a successful outcome is impossible'.

This will be the general idea of part two. I stole-erm-borrowed the idea from Little Dorrit, Great Expectations, and David Copperfield. Speaking of which, the writers of the show Heroes have obviously gotten the same idea as me. Their show has now become a superhero rip-off of Charles Dickens(lol. I really do like watching it though XD)


	2. Blue Moon

Chapter 1: Once In A Blue Moon

"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like."  
— Lemony Snicket

Disclaimer: I don't own it…yet.

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It was very strange to think of but they had once disagreed; clashing to the extreme. She had even considered improbable measures when she was younger. Once thought that the man had _needed _to _go._ It took lives to cast the revulsion of Blunt away. The closer she grew, agents started to resent her, treating it as a personal betrayal. The abrupt isolation changed her. She grew calmer. She saw herself turning into Alan Blunt. But she exceeded him in nearly all actions except one. And that more than anything else, scared her.

Then came Alex.

In one of those rare instances, Alan Blunt had shocked her; truly shocked her. He had _seen _the pain on her face when young recruits came in with heads full of adventure and patriotism.

And then they were beaten down, broken, murdered in cold blood.

She would debrief them, watching the innocent faces that were so eager to please; completely in confidence at her direction.

But Alex was different. He was harder to look at.

Sometimes she glimpsed her someone else looking back with hate. She could see his eyes accusing. _Always_ accusing. Yet somehow the impassion of Blunt kept her distanced from the truth. The truth was; she had made a mistake and he would never let her forget it. He used her weakness for his own gain. _Manipulation. _It was a word she was all too familiar with.

It had relit the internal distrust of her mentor. But there was also confusion. _There was always confusion. _

But being the well-tempered, loyal second hand she was supposed to be; Mrs. Jones stayed. She was lost. She had _nowhere. _The insecurity in her heart went to deep to start over new.

-Which led her here to _his_ house, though she couldn't ponder the reason.

Holding her head up high, she wrapped twice against the solid oak.

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The church belonged to another age, a time when it was filled with people seeking sanctuary from their chaotic lives. For Alex this idea was taken quite literally as he hid with his companion in the once great architectural ground. He couldn't force himself to say _'father'_ yet. It felt odd on his tongue after so many years of embarrassing exchanges. He had a general idea of what fathers were _supposed_ to be. Tom would be complaining about his dad one minute and sweet-talking him the next. Parents were loved and hated.

Yet he could not place a direct emotion towards John Rider. Just looking at him scared Alex. He could now understand Yassen's ease to recognize him when they had first meant.

_When they had first met. _

It was forbidding thinking about the regressive pattern in his life. He pulled his arms together and shivered.

"Are you cold?" Someone said. Alex jumped at the voice and turned to see John Rider walking up right behind him. The older man was so very quiet in everything he did to the point where Alex felt pathetic when he heard his own footsteps.

"No…" He started, mortified at yet another under action on his part. John acted like he didn't hear him and reached to hand over a wool blanket.

"Here."

Alex flinched when he felt John hand him the layer. He avoided the hurt look on John Rider's face and the attempt to start conversation. "I've been here before," John Rider said suddenly.

To his aversion John sat down beside him and shrugged, "Twice actually. First time was on an undercover assignment. I was watching the antique book shop across the street. It was a _very _boring job. I ended up playing cards with my best friend and missed a robbery across the street. Imagine that!" He laughed; remembering the moment.

Alex pursed his lips in discontent. John continued, oblivious;

"The second time I was just looking for a quiet place to think. I was trying to decide whether or not to propose to-"

"My _mother,_" Alex finished quietly, sounding very disappointed.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No Alex. I was going to marry Helen Palmer, a girl I had gone to school with and had been friends with through the years", He frowned," But I knew that a friend of mine was in love with Helen, so I ended our relationship."

"What was your friend's name?" Alex asked, knowing well the answer. The idea of Ash suddenly made him queasy.

"It doesn't matter now", His father said simply and kept his eyes focused on the boy beside him. Alex could feel him trying to size up his younger counterpart. Here were the questions coming. Alex mentally tried to think of excuses of explainable scenarios. Anything but-

"Look, Alex," The older man started, "I hate to ask you this, _but _there are some things we need to talk about."

"-About my entire life or the consequences of my father being in a comatose state for fourteen years?" Alex answered uncharacteristically strident, much to John's awe. His son had been silent, for the most part, since he had been recovered.

"We have to start somewhere."

The man waited and was about to repeat himself.

"I don't like this church," Alex said suddenly and caught John off guard.

"You don't like churches?" John asked carefully, confused. He was fully aware that impatience would go nowhere with Alex and so he humored his son for the moment.

The boy considered and looked up at the ceiling. "I had bad luck in a church a lot like this once." He flinched at the memory of Julia Rothman's bloodlust. He frowned in realization and turned rigid as he faced his father. "And I was going to die _because of_ _you_…"

"What?"

Alex was not listening. "I reminded her of _you_. She hated you. She wanted to kill _me_ because she didn't get to watch _you_ die. I was just the second best thing," He bitterly confessed to himself for the first time," Don't look at me like you don't know who I'm talking about! Julia. Rothman. Head of Scorpia. Or do you know too many women to keep track of now?"

"Hey-"John started.

"No! It's the truth! What kind of person lies to everyone he knows! Who are you, really?" Alex yelled.

"_I'm sorry_ Alex. Does that mean anything to you?"

Alex closed his eyes. He gradually appeared calm. "How do I know I know if I'm talking to the real you, right now? How do I know you aren't lying to me?"He asked miserably.

"I'm here now and I want to be your father. My only concern is you. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"What makes you think I need your help?" Alex's eyes flashed annoyingly.

"Besides the fact you're fourteen years old?"

_Shows what you know about me…_

"…what about Julia Rothman? How did she find you?" The man asked, almost reluctantly.

"I found her."

"How did you find SCORPIA?"

"…someone knew you had been there. They knew I was your son"

"Who?"

"Someone," Alex said simply, "Julia Rothman showed me the tape of you on the Bridge, _dad_. I watched you _die_-"

"They taped it…"John muttered to himself.

"-Then Julia Rothman convinced me to join SCORPIA and kill -a MI6 agent. But I couldn't do it," he breathed, "MI6 made me go back to SCORPIA and pretend I had actually shot…the agent. She had been planning to kill me the whole time though. And-"

"Alex." John stopped his son and watched the boy look up. "You…you aren't serious?" His son's eyes widened, and then glanced off.

"Out of all people, I thought you'd understand."

"MI6-"John started but couldn't finish. "…they-you….?"

Alex looked on, waiting for the truth to sink in. His older companion was becoming anxious.

"MI6…and you… Ian wouldn't let MI6 breathe the same air as you! Much less make you walk back into your own death trap."

Alex didn't say anything.

And John knew it. It was not logical, but Alex could swear by every fiber of his being that the man knew it without being told.

"You knew Yassen…and Julia Rothman, and-_Ian_…he..."His eyes followed Alex's, begging them to not mean what he thought," No!" He breathed. "That's not possible, Alex. Where is Ian?"

Silence.

"Where is my brother?"

The hazel eyes bit back at him, no remorse whatsoever. "_I'm sorry_, John…_Does that mean anything to you?"_

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"What's wrong Alan?" She asked, but knew without being told. She had never been in the man's house before and most of MI6 were convinced that Blunt never left MI6 Headquarters. Mrs. Jones knew better. People could hide their lives very well and reveal them twice as easy.

The man across from her sat in a comfortable chair, three feet away, in a dark oak room. It was pleasant, but was missing something very important she couldn't quite put her finger on, not unlike Blunt himself.

"Tulip," He said. He was the only person who called her by her name-much less knew her name. "I'm glad you came."

"You sounded fine on the phone but now you look-"She stopped herself, finally really looking at the grayed man sitting in a plush chair in front of her.

"…old? " He finished.

"No-", She started, embarrassed.

"Yes, I am, much older than I care to be honestly. But I suppose that is the godly justice that I receive for what I did."

Mrs. Jones moved closer, hesitant, and put an arm on the man's shoulder. He stared right through her. "Are you okay?" She asked, softer than she had meant it to come out.

"I am fine, Tulip. Always fine. It is you whom is not well.-Alex Rider was kidnapped recently."

"_What?" _

"Crawford was the one to discover it. We might have known it earlier had he informed us" A pause caught the room. Mrs. Jones waited. "…It appears that when he was training a senior doctor discovered a misplaced file that led them to a comatose patient in an old research laboratory."

"A misplaced patient?"

"No. _Never _misplaced. Tulip," He breathed," Have...you ever done something extremely…_stupid_?"

"What does this have to do with Alex?" Stepping back, she frowned upon the inquiry coming from the man.

"Everything. You see, fourteen years ago, I started doing something…_stupid_. I lied to you. I told you that John Rider died in a plane bombing. I told you that Alex's mother was Helen Rider. And then I fed you many foul explanations after your children died."

"Stop it!"

"Please don't get jumpy. I am a very old man."

"_Do not mention them."_

"You need to hear this."

"No, I do not." Her face was red and Tulip felt her eyes redden. She turned to leave, afraid that she might choke the man right there; if you could call him a man.

"Yassen is alive, if you can handle that truth."

She stopped.

"I know. Why believe a pretender like me? I have beaten you down every day since you started working for MI6. I have done horrible things to you and made you do horrible things, correct?"

She did not move. Blunt took it as affirmation.

"But what did you do then? Did you join up with SCORPIA and seek revenge on me like Howell did? No. You stayed here."

"Like a coward," She said, looking at him.

"No. Not a coward at all. You were young and brilliant. You could have gone anywhere. You even could have killed me, had you really wanted. But you stayed. Why is that?"

"I was weak."

"You stayed because you knew that while some of my actions were questionable, the intentions were good. You wanted to do _good_. You are not a bad person, Tulip. You and Alex Rider are not as unalike as you might think."

"And you still made him go through all that."

"At first I did it for you."

"For me?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I did think you were weak. I wanted you to get over your children. A leader in MI6 can't have a soft spot like that. You had to let go of that fear and Alex was perfect. But then, when he revealed himself to be so…_useful, _I made a lack in judgment and couldn't _stop_ using him."

"Like Ian."

"_Yes, _but I did not tell you to come here to spell out each of my countless sins."

The woman felt anger rise in her chest." You wanted to tell me about _Yassen…"_

"No. That just happened to come out actually." He looked up at her, "I am through. I'm quitting MI6."

"You're…retiring?" She asked in disbelief.

"I put your name to be in place of my position and gained clearance for it last month."

"You don't mean-"

"It's all yours. The most horrid job on the planet to be sure, but it is yours."

"I don't want it."

The man closed his eyes and breathed a sigh. "But you'll take it nonetheless."

"You don't tell me what to do. You aren't in charge of me anymore!"

"If you don't take this, then someone else will, Tulip. Someone like me. Someone who would lie to you and use Alex Rider. There are many people like me in the world."

It was true. She did not want another Alan Blunt. She could not take another Alan Blunt.

She could resign.

But then Alex would be-Alex. Alan Blunt had made a final demand of her, she realized. Even as he retired, his deception had still remained to order her around.

"I…will take it."

"I know."

"I never wanted it."

"I know you didn't. But we seldom want anything life gives us."

"Yassen is my problem now?"

"You should not be talking about him with a civilian, Tulip." He answered and Mrs. Jones almost thought she saw a twinkle in his eye.

"Ah, there is one thing I should tell you… You see the patient that saved Alex was hidden but not misplaced."

"Is this supposed to make sense to me?"

"Not at all. Not yet. You see, MI6 found him dying, in pieces. In guilt I felt I should do something for him, _anything_. He had done us a great favor. I put scientists-who are no longer living, I am afraid to say-over the job of keeping him alive, anyway they could. They made a mistake and put him in a coma."

"And he just now woke up?"

"Death comes quickly. Life…takes time."

"Who is he?" She asked, a deep foreshadowing dread overcoming her.

The man tilted his head and looked through a foggy window. "You'll find out soon enough." Without looking at her, he continued, "You can leave now. That is all I wanted to tell you."

"You can't be serious-"

"Good luck on the job, Tulip."

"I can't just leave right now! I need…answers."

The man was silent. Mrs. Jones waited a few seconds before backing away. "Why must you be like this Alan? Is the truth really that bad?"

Silence.

"Fine then", she said, expressionless. Moving to leave, she tightened her fists. The man hadn't even apologized_. A simple apology. _Was that too much? He could rot in his lonely house for all she cared.

The door slammed shut behind her and the man inside remained unmoved.

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_One Week Later…_

The head of MI6 was getting into her car when the mobile rang. It was strange. She already knew what they would say. That day had been windy, giving her a chill down to her bones. The feeling was familiar. _Death _was familiar.

"Jones here," She answered, listening to the earnest reply.

A car drove in front of her, blocking the view briefly. The person on the other line was asking her if she was okay. She wasn't answering. Mrs. Jones brushed her lips, thinking. The person on the other line eventually gave up trying to talk to her and the dial tone rang in her ear.

She felt alone. _He_ was dead. She had known it, but tried to convince herself otherwise of his aging process. She hated the man, but she still needed him. He was her crutch and now she was falling.

Grasping the handle of her car, she pulled herself into the driver's seat and shifted gears. When she reached for the handle, she saw a note.

It was small and neatly taped onto her steering wheel. Gently, she unfolded the little white piece of paper and read.

A few seconds later it fell to the floor and reality kicked in.

Blunt was dead. And know she was being blackmailed. What else could possibly happen?

"Mrs. Jones!"

She nearly bumped her head into the roof of her car when the young man popped up beside her door.

"A young lady at the hospital wants to speak with you immediately."

_Jack._

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A/N- I hope no one fell asleep here ;) I ended up making this chapter longer out of pure guilt for updating slowly. (Haha.) There will be action coming, now that I've got the first chapter out of the way.

Review and tell me what you want to see/think! Heck, even one word will let me know if someone's still reading 


	3. Dark Horse

A/N – I know I haven't updated in forever. I wrote an extra long chapter to(attempt)to make it up ;)

I also have posted the trailer for this fanfic: w w w . y o u t u b e .com/watch?v=ugmDi-YhpBM -Type it in without the spaces ;)

It's a basic plot preview of this story. (John isn't included because I was having trouble with my clips of Aaron Eckheart, but if you like it, then I can do another trailer that includes him.)

Enjoy,

P.S- A "dark horse" is someone whose abilities are untested. (hint, hint)

Chapter 3: Dark Horse

_Light was barely lingering around the trees. The time should be near dusk, but Alex could care less about the point in time he was caught in. All concentration went to the towering form above him, the same form that was half supporting, half carrying him through the darkening woods with unsurprising stealth. _

"_Alex." The man stopped his fast pace, glancing behind himself quickly, then back at the boy in his arms who was no longer limp, but still breathing unsteadily with brown eyes not even daring to blink in the presence of this stranger._

_His eyes widened and he spoke, hardly above a whisper, "You're not real."_

_No reaction. John spoke, but not in return to Alex's words._

"_Is your wound still bleeding much?"_

"_You. Are. Dead." He repeated, voice rising louder than before. _

"_You need to-"  
It was the last thing Alex heard before going into blessed unconsciousness. _

3 Weeks Ago

In the end, Alex realized that his savior was neither a ghost, nor a sign of insanity. He may have been borderline delirious, but Alex clearly remembered the first few moments with the legendary man that he had once been reduced to daydreaming about.

At one point in their trek, his father stopped and lifted Alex gently onto the frigid night ground. There were obviously no medical supplies to be found anywhere remotely near them, but John still managed to bandage his son's bullet wound quickly and competently with nothing more than a scrap of his own clothing.

Alex then cracked an eye open to cast a look at the obscure figure above him. Within an instant, he realized why Yassen had so easily known he was John Rider's son during their very first meeting. His father looked so much like him; or rather he looked like his father. They had the same fair hair, dark eyes, and set jaws. Even his barely restrained expression of distress was now worn upon the face of his older look-alike. If Alex had been but a few years older, they probably could have passed as a mirror and he now knew that he could never doubt the identity of his savior. It _was_ indeed his father.

Another detail that he brought back to attention was the lingering expression on the older man's face. It was with a sense of panic that Alex never would have visualized his renowned spy father possessing. While he was still trying to sort it out, and before he could process what was happening, John had taken his son securely in his arms and just held him.

Any normal teenage boy would have been embarrassed by a hug from his father at such an age, but this was Alex Rider. He had never been hugged by his father before. In fact, he had stopped receiving both physical and verbal signs of parental affection from his uncle Ian as soon as Jack had arrived in the picture and began watching over him as little more than a toddler.

He heard his father speak, but the only words he paid attention to were '_my son'_.

_My son. _

Alex internally shivered at the words. He had never heard those words before. Not directed towards him.

Suddenly, he was lifted again, and was carried through darkness, and then daylight. He couldn't imagine his father finding a taxi where they were (even though he wasn't sure _**where**_ they even were) or hitchhiking, but he also vaguely recalled riding in a vehicle.

The rest of the journey was a whirlwind of nightmarish, blurred focus. All he now knew was that somehow he had ended up waking in a church of all places.

Beyond him, and below some worn and shattered stained glass windows, he saw his rescuer lying asleep on a rotting, wooden pew. John Rider's eyes were closed in fatigue, and out of all the descriptions Alex could have described, the first word that came to his mind was _vulnerable_.

As much as Alex despised admitting it, a significant portion of his subconscious mind now made him realize that all he wanted at that very moment was to feel the unfamiliar embrace of a father that John had given him just hours before.

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Present Time

"Jack", Mrs. Jones acknowledged the other woman as she entered the lifeless hospital room.

Obviously avoiding her neatly folded bed, Jack Starbright was instead sitting in the arm chair beside it, only turning her gaze from the room's window in order to see Mrs. Jones.

"Ms. Starbright", the younger woman chipped back impatiently. The bouncy, blonde curls and kind face that had once made the American woman appear so even-tempered suddenly seemed less friendly. A dark, foreign emotion passed over Jack Starbright's face and even a fool could not have mistaken it.

Surprised, Mrs. Jones returned a frown. The usually buoyant woman had certainly fumed over MI6 using Alex, but her demeanor had never contained this level of…hatred.

"I apologize for the lateness of my realization Mrs. Jones, "Jack continued, standing up," I was never able to fully comprehend what you put Alex through, until I experienced it myself."

"Don't be ridiculous", Tulip Jones started, "The break in was not your fault."

Jack's face was hard when she spoke, "But it was. It's both of our faults. Your fault for ordering Alex on all of those missions", she breathed in painfully," and my fault…for letting him go."

"It won't happen again. MI6 is through with Alex. I want you to understand that." Mrs. Jones also wanted to say, "_And Alan Blunt can't reach Alex through death". _But she now knew that blaming the former MI6 head would no longer help her. The blame was hers and hers alone.

And, the very thought of the truth was unsettling in her gut.

Jack was up now. Her face was flusher, but not in illness. She was angry.

"I understand perfectly. I guess now that you've demolished the building, you expect it to build itself up again," she said.

"I'll make it up to Alex," Tulip Jones bit back quickly, and stopped in surprise. She had meant to say, 'we', as in MI6 and her, but for some reason it came out wrong.

Her tone didn't stop the other woman for an instant.

"_**Make**_._** It**_._** Up…?**_" She spat, "Why don't you work on _finding_ him first? Or better yet, build a time machine and rewind to the time before he met you people."

"We'll find him, Jack. He won't come to any harm." Mrs. Jones gave her calmer tone its last chance.

It didn't work.

"He _**won't**_- How do you know he hasn't? Just look at what those men did to me? Do you think they'd hold back just because he's a kid?"

"I doubt they would", Tulip replied, in a painful honesty that came out sour on her lips. She thought it best not to mention Yassen Gregorovich at this point.

The other woman's hands were clenched at her sides now. Something inside Jack Starbright had snapped and oddly enough Tulip was suddenly afraid of the angry guardian, even though she stood a half a foot shorter and was several years younger than Tulip herself.

"If he doesn't come back in one piece…" Jack started, then hesitated for a moment before continuing,"…If he doesn't come back, Jones, the world will know about it. They'll know about him and what you put him through."

"You wouldn't-"

"I would do anything for him."

Tulip sighed. She felt like she had just lost someone that might have once, in another lifetime, been a friend.

"No one would believe you. You'd only be hurting your own reputation."

"_Someone _would believe me", Jack replied, completely certain of her own words.

_So, this is how it will be. Forgive me, Alex._

"Ms. Starbright, I do believe that your visa has run out. In fact, I came here today to discuss the matter."

"You have no authority to-"Jack began.

"I have all of the authority, Ms. Starbright. In fact I have just been promoted in Alan Blunt's stead", she replied equally heated.

Jack's eyes widened but she didn't say anything. Maybe she had truly believed that Tulip would only go so far, or maybe she had registered the comment about Blunt's death.

Either way, the reality hit Mrs. Jones that she felt just as helpless in her new position as the last one. And, as she shut the door and made her way out of the hospital, she could hear Alan's awful voice mocking her from somewhere out of reach.

"_Good luck on the job, Tulip."_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The streets were not completely deserted, even on the particularly chilly day. Alex was thankful for that. He had been through enough social isolation in past events. There were still a few people milling about and going in and out the few open shops and restaurants.

A mother and father pushing their baby's stroller walked past him. The father was making faces, trying to make his son or daughter laugh. The mother was laughing at the father. The cold weather did not seem to affect them in the least.

Alex frowned against the wind, reminded of his own parent who was at an _undisclosed_ location. He swore to himself and kicked at the ground. His father had come back to save him, only to leave him once again. Because he was, a _**child**_, "_who shouldn't be involved in such dodgy business"._ Those had been his father's words. The father, who he had hoped might stand by his side and watch his back. Perhaps even sock it to MI6 for using him.

But certainly not treat him like an ignorant _child. _There were plenty of other people to treat him like that.

Alex sighed. John had been upset about Ian. You could have looked in his eyes and saw how completely brokenhearted the man was.

But then John had been angry. At MI6. And ironically enough, Alex actually felt frightened for Alan Blunt and whomever else that his father might come into contact with. His father had once pretended to be a killer, Alex reminded himself. And looking at the cool, contained blood-lust that John Rider displayed, it came as no surprise to how he had fooled Scorpia all of that time.

John had gone to look for information about MI6, among other things. Alex wasn't sure _where _he had went for this, as the legality of such a location was questionable at least, but he had left early that same morning, only dropping his expression to promise his son that he would return very quickly. But he had to leave Alex for his own _protection_.

Fortunately they had left the old church for an inexpensive hotel that didn't require much information from its occupants. And it was outside the hotel that Alex had decided to take a walk, not caring much about whether his newfound father would have approved of his still injured son taking a stroll out into the cold, open streets.

Alex thought about a lot of things while he was walking. A majority of them drew his mind back to Yassen and his father. Yassen had saved his life on more than one occasion, and the man had even supposedly taken a bullet for him. That was what he had seen, but now he was not sure of anything as people seemed to be rising from their graves everywhere he looked.

He could only hope that Jack had also survived her ordeal. The sound of her piercing scream was the last he had heard, and he doubted that his former captors would have left a witness.

A headache was forming in the back of his head and Alex was unsure if it was because of the cold, his racing thoughts, or both. Deciding quickly, he changed his course to head to a close by convenience store. He didn't want to fight a migraine on top of everything else. A pain reliever might do him well and give some relief, if only a little.

Alex could not have foreseen how wrong he was about the relief part.

There was a clean cut, middle aged man looking over a newspaper as he walked in to the small, but efficient store. A teenage girl was at the cash register. She looked to be near his own age and when he walked in she met his eyes and smiled. Alex turned his head from her though. He wasn't quite ready for that much socialization. Not yet.

Everything was fine at first. Alex scoured an aisle to find something to fight his now persisting migraine.

Then something went wrong.

He should have expected it. It's not like there at ever been a moment when he had escaped to peace.

The man he had labeled as clean cut moved to the register and whispered something loudly to the young woman. The girl backed up, eyes widened.

Then there was another man-no, two more men. And it seemed very strange to Alex that none of them had any type of covering on their face. Surely they couldn't expect to not be recognized on the store camera.

One of them suddenly noticed Alex. He was younger than the other two men, perhaps in his late twenties. His dark brow furrowed like he wasn't sure why the boy was there.

Then he eyed Alex, as if threatening him to not make a move, but doubting that he would dare.

The first man gestured to the girl and she shook her head, clearly protesting.

_What are you doing? Just give them the money, _Alex thought.

One of the newly arrived men lifted his jacket to reveal a gun. The girl took a couple steps backward before the first man grabbed her arm. She tried to open her mouth to scream before she was backhanded across the face.

And that was when Alex realized that the men might not be here for the pocket money from a small store, but for the girl.

The first man was holding back the girl and one of his companions were moving quickly, taking out handcuffs, moving towards her. Alex heard the goon watching him say something to the man holding the girl. The man jerked his head at Alex, as if shocked that he had never noticed the boy before. Then he shouted some words that were clear enough _"Bring him. We can leave the body somewhere else."_

The man started towards him and Alex went deep into his, still living, spy mode.

"Don't hurt me!" He pleaded. Across the room, he could see the girl shooting him a look of, _'you coward'!_

"I'm not going to hurt you-"The younger man started.

_Of course you aren't._

"-just do exactly what we tell you to. Now, come here."

Alex slowly walked towards the three men. His face was stricken with mock fear, but inside he knew that these men were nothing compared to the criminals that he had faced so many times before.

"Put your hands up, son", One of the men said.

Alex kept his hands down.

"Put your hands up."

"I-I can't." Alex stuttered before dropping his body heavily on the floor. Two of the men moved closer, confused.

As soon as they were close enough, he spun his legs around, lashing out. Both of the men fell to the floor and Alex heard more than one explicative coming from their mouths. He was already up on his feet though and before they could get up themselves, Alex had managed to bash his hidden vegetable soup can against twice against one of the men's head.

"Stop!" He heard the man at the front shout.

Alex didn't stop and heard the resulting gunshot hit the wall, not two inches away from his arm. He had only managed to miss it by abruptly leaning down under the cover of a shelf.

"I do not miss easily. I will shoot again." It was the man grasping the cashier girl that spoke. He was the one holding the gun now. The other man, the one that Alex had not knocked unconscious with a soup can, was standing up beside him appearing very provoked.

"Stand up", the man ordered.

Alex actually obeyed him, running out of ideas. He could really use one of Smither's gadgets right now.

The man that Alex had previously knocked down was now heading over to Alex. As he neared, Alex held out his hands expectantly, as one would to a police officer at the second that they realized the gig is over. As a smirk passed over the man's face and he went to grab the boy, Alex kicked out with all of the precision and energy that he had built through years of karate right at the jugular vein bulging out of the man's neck. His body fell, and Alex didn't dare move to check on whether he was dead or simply seriously injured.

The gun was now aimed at him, but it was not fired. The first man looked perplexed. He had not expected an ordinary teenage boy to fight back. Not like that.

It was at that moment when the man was distracted and pointed his gun at Alex, pulling back the safety lock and aiming, that the girl lashed out. She elbowed her captor. First in the groin, then the nose. The most painful areas of attack. And when he fell to the ground, clutching his areas of attack and dropping the gun, Alex dived to grab it.

Picking up the weapon, he striked it against the back of the final man's head, hearing the 'thud' as the body it the floor. A gun still felt awkward in his hands, Alex noticed.

He also noticed the man that had just busted the store door open, with a gun of his own held up.

It was John Rider.

"He tried to shoot you," John began, breathless.

_Nothing unusual_, Alex wanted to say, but refrained.

Instead, Alex shrugged and moved towards his father before remembering the girl. When he turned to look for her, she was hanging up an old telephone built into the wall. She looked at John Rider and said, "I called the police. You people should leave while you can."

"He's not with them", Alex said, moving his eyes from the beaten men on the floor and finally taking a long look at the cashier. He made eye contact with her and felt something.

He had seen her before.

"We should go", John Rider said. He took his son by the arm and steered him through the door.

Alex's eyes were still on the girl. He couldn't move them from her. And that's when he knew that he knew her.

"Fiona!" Alex called from the street outside and saw her eyes light up in surprise. There were police sirens sounding off nearby, coming closer. His father moved quickly, pulling Alex along.

And Alex followed, as confused as ever.

_Fiona Friend. _He pondered.

_What are you doing here?_

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the vast city of London, Alex's friend, Tom, was coincidently in a convenience store himself. He was picking up late groceries, trying to decide on what to buy on the night that his parents were away on business. He wasn't much of a cook himself, so tonight it would probably come to a packaged meal for the purpose of survival.

He was considering canned vegetable soup when a man caught the corner of his eyes. Tom looked up and stared. He usually didn't stare, but tonight he was tired and not holding as true to etiquette as he should have been.

There was something about the man that stuck out. His appearance wasn't odd or anything. He was well-dressed with black overcoat on and had a clean-shaven face that could have belonged to any businessman off of the street. It was hard for Tom to explain, but something about the man just didn't quite fit in with the setting. He didn't belong here.

Then the man noticed his staring and shot him a look. He smiled at the boy, but Tom could have sworn it was forced. He stood, gaping before mentally slapping himself and turning back to his own business. If his friend Alex were here, he would be laughing at Tom for his jumpiness.

He bought his food and left.

But as Tom started for his way toward home, he saw the same strange man walk down the opposite block. And the insane part of him was begging him to follow.

Unexpectedly, Tom turned around and changed his course.

_What would Alex say to this? _Tom wondered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N- As always let me know if you are still enjoying this story. I'm trying to finally work on this and finish it up smoothly, so feedback would be appreciated! And plot guesses are great too ;)

And let me know how you liked the trailer,

-DRoA


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